Godforsaken, by Tarryl Janik

Two fizzled-out stars

First and foremost, thank you to Tarryl Janik (through a friend) for providing me with a copy of this book, which allows me to provide you with an unbiased review.

With a few independent books that have been offered to me by authors through Goodreads, I wanted to take some time and read them, before posting reviews. They may not get the publicity of other writers, but deserve some recognition. Jack Warren has little in life about which to be happy, explaining why he has a revolver pressed to his temple as the book begins. A deputy in the Waushara County Sheriff’s Department, Jack breaks from his suicidal thought processes to investigate the disappearance of Jessica Mills, a local teenage girl. With only a few clues, Jack must assess the scene and try to piece together her last moments with others. On a tangential narrative, an archeological expedition in Guyana uncovers some highly troubling discoveries with sacrificial elements of the most graphic nature, which seems out of place at the time, but finds its place as the story progresses. The narrative returns to offer the reader a glimpse into the last night of Jessica Mills’ freedom, full of sexual exploration and disappointment, before eventually leading to her capture by a silhouetted individual. When Jack comes across a friend he hopes will be able to offer some insight into Jessica’s disappearance, he is attacked by a mysterious woman in the shadows, maimed to the point of requiring medical attention. It is here that the story takes a turn, when a nondescript room tucked in the corner of the hospital reveals added alter sacrifices and medicinal reincarnations that perpetuate a zombie state. If the review reader is grasping at straws to collect some form of narrative thread, reading this piece is like blindly hanging from said threads in a torrential downpour. A troubled publication, the reader must take a gamble as they sacrifice their sanity, time, and mood to finish.

I have always been taught not to say anything if there is nothing good to be added to the discussion. With that in mind, let me dig and find something positive worth exploring in this book. The text is organised in coherent paragraphs and pages (lacking horribly inane columns), which is worth one star. One would presume this is a freebie star, but in some of the recent books I have come across, traditional text presentation is never a foregone conclusion. The second star is surely worthy for great use of the English language, showing that Janik has a grasp of how to weave the words together in any effective and comprehensive fashion that makes sense to the adult audience. With these two stars in the book’s quiver, we embark on what might be the miraculous search for a third star, or how we cannot lose the two previously ascertained praiseworthy traits this book possesses. Moving forward, things take a turn for the worse or at least inch towards literary disaster. While the words are clear, the story begs for an editor. If one was used, said person should immediately return the funds they were paid and march through the town as they are shamed for horrible work. Spelling, grammar, and punctuation are haphazardly used and, on occasion, their disappearance ruin what might have been a passable plot. One might turn to me and ask that I cast the first stone if I am so perfect. I do not seek perfection, though I should expect some degree of clarity on the parts of both the author and editor to clean up the draft and show honour and respect in the published work. This is not Harper Lee’s resurrected second manuscript from a few years ago, whereby the world accepted it without a red pen touching the page. It is an insult to the reader to seek their money and time while not putting in the conscious effort to produce one’s best work. Janik seeks to provide that flashy distraction to the aforementioned abyss by opening a medical terminology text or thesaurus and peppering the narrative with fancy words, as if to beg for the literary equivalent of a golf clap. ‘Well done, sir!’ If the characters worked in the medical profession or counselled those with numerous philias, phobias, or isms, the reader might accept these words as useful, but it does little to distract the intelligent reader from what is going on. The gratuitous and seemingly inexplicable use of sex in all its forms to fill pages and bestow forms of orgasmic delight for the minor characters leaves the reader wondering if there will be some epiphany in the narrative that pulls all this ejaculatory blather to a head (pardon the pun). It occurs in almost every chapters and adds nothing to the larger story, save to promote disgust and ‘strokes’ (again, sorry for the pun) the author’s ego to have devised every euphemistic penile reference that a second-tier romance novelist would veto. Janik shows only that his academic success (discussed on the author blurb) is surely diluted as he remains trapped in the mentality of a sixteen year-old boy, giggling with the ways he can under-impress the reader. I am not Freud, so I will not draw cigar parallels. What began as a mystery quickly slips away and turns into something without a genre, though seeks to introduce sex to distract from its dissolving plot. Might this distraction attempt be a theme all its own in the book? The reader may prepare to celebrate the end of this short novel, only to be greeted with a TO BE CONTINUED final page. As if there is need to contemplate the next move. Most will rush for the closest door and run into the hills. Then again, might there be those with literary masochistic leanings?

Good luck, Mr. Janik. I do not pull punches and set the bar high for authors. You have a sequel and seem to have some followers, but do not fold up the tent on your academic endeavours just yet. 

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